Someday, We Would Live Again
by ChibiKanakoNyu
Summary: Ever since a very special someone vanished from his life, Iceburg's life seemed all dull and gray. But he still kept hoping. Hoping that someday, out of the blue... A piece dedicated to Green-san, inspired by Elton John's "Someday Out of the Blue". Iceburg Franky.


**Title:** Someday We Would Live Again**  
Theme:** Fic exchange~!  
**Characters:** Iceburg × Franky  
**Words:** 1178  
**Rating:** T (?)  
**Warning:** AU (I guess?), angst and sappyness. I'm truly sorry. *bow***  
Song:** Elton John: Someday Out of the Blue  
**Disclaimers:** Just borrowed the boys for some fun, Oda-sensei~!

**A/N:** Dedicated to my darling Green-san, for our widdle fic exchange threesome with GeckoMoriaShadowLord. I put every ounce of my fangirl loving in it, so I hope you like it, Green-chan~ Wuv you very-very much~! *huggle, wiggle, squee*

* * *

Gray. Water Seven's streets were so cruelly gray. Not just the paved streets his dress shoes clicked on with every step on his way to work. Not just because it looked like rain that day. To Iceburg, this city, which attracted throngs of tourists with it's splendid architecture and almost magical sights, bore no color whatsoever since that faithful day. A day of which he was reminded of with every whistle of the town's famous old-timer locomotive. The one that wasn't exactly an old-timer back in the day, in the flower of his youth. The one he had built with his master and fellow apprentice. The one that had taken the color out of his life.

The CEO of Tom's Workers was thankful for his monotone lifestyle. Waking up, doing paperwork in his office and checking the production lines until late, maybe chatting a bit with his fellow shipwrights on his way back home from the factory, then finally arriving to his empty flat and going straight to bed. And the next day, everything would start anew in Iceburg's simple life. But he didn't mind. His schedule kept his thoughts off certain things.

Things like his dreams, for instance. For those dreams he saw after resting his head were so much more vivid than what his eyes showed him during daylight. Full of life, full of color. Full of love. While dreaming, memories revived. Pictures from those hot afternoons, not so long ago. A sunny field emerged from the depths of his mind, somewhere far away; a refuge from all the noise and a quiet resting place after another hard day helping out Tom, their always merry foster father.

The smell of fresh, green grass was still there, engraved into his being, along with the fragrant scent and slightly salty taste of _his_ sun-kissed skin. Those slightly red cheeks, warmed by the heat of the summer and the fire of lust, accompanied by an embarrassed an rather silly frown. That look in those sparkling greyish blue eyes burning him more than the sun ever could. The familiar warmth of that body against his own, and the feeling of being embraced by those arms he could lose himself in for hours on end. Those gentle puffs of breath against his neck that first had ignited his very bones, then had softly caressed him to sleep. That raspy, cocky voice, which could sound so sweet and gentle when moaning and whispering next to his ear.

"_Bakaburg, you bastard... I love you."_

However, the memory of his first love, of the golden days they shared, began to fade an wrinkle on the edges, like an old photograph, bleached by the cruel rays of the morning light. Gone would be that childish grin, the lively laughter, the feel of that slightly shaking, yet tightly gripping hand holding his own, leaving Iceburg alone in his bed, staring at his clenched fists.

"Me too... Bakanky..."

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

Not again...

He spaced out and was jolted awake again by a loud honk of a car passing by right next to him. He caught himself searching again; looking for that flash of color among the many people of the busy city. His eyes were scanning the crowd for that insanely blue hair, that wacky Hawaiian-pattern shirt, those idiotic-looking goggles. Like they always did every given minute he forgot to will himself not to remember.

He knew very well he was being foolish. After all, he had read in the news years ago that _he_ was dead, killed by their own masterpiece, the treasured locomotive of Water Seven. Gone forever. But he couldn't rip out that nagging hope deep inside his heart. He couldn't just discard the thought that someday, completely out of the blue, he would turn around, and _he_ would stand there, his smile beaming through all the grayness of this cold and lonely city.

Just as he stepped inside the factory, he was greeted by Paulie, the production manager.

"Mornin' boss! Guess what! The new guy arrived."

"Nmaa... New guy?" Iceburg wondered for a moment what his colleague was talking about, gathering his still scrambled thoughts, but then it clicked. "Oh, yes, I remember. The one that sent in those blueprints last week."

Paulie nodded and said that he had already sent the man to his office, and told him to wait there for the CEO's arrival. Iceburg clapped his right-hand man on the shoulder, then made his way up the stairs to meet his new worker, loosening the buttons of his jacket along the way. He felt relieved to have something to take his thoughts off the past for the moment, and help him set his life in motion again. But as he opened the door to his office, the world seemed to stop abruptly, almost throwing him off his feet. The sight awaiting him was too much to handle. He knew instantly that this was not simply a blast from the past. True, the man was much taller and much more ripped than he remembered, but that blinding turquoise hairdo and that uniquely-shaped jawline was the same. So was that look: heat radiating through those seemingly cool irises, cheeks slightly rosy, with the very same childish frown that always made him laugh.

"Yo... Iceburg." The man spoke, with a voice sounding much more mature, but still carrying that nostalgic, cocky tone; a remnant of times that passed long ago.

"Franky... Is that you?" Iceburg could only manage, lifting his hand to clamp his mouth, pushing back the many feelings that wanted to flood him over all at once.

"Yeah." Franky answered, first just looking at the carpet beneath them, then lifting his gaze to match his former lover's, gracing him with a warm smile. "I'm back."

He couldn't think. Couldn't speak. The one he had always searched for, the person he had always dreamed of stood right there before him, slowly filling his world with colors and warmth again. He had so many questions circling in his head, so many things he wanted to ask. Where had he been? When had he arrived? Why had he come? Why hadn't he at least called? But his mouth was unable to form so much as a single word at that moment. His body moved without thinking, all but leaping close to his beloved and wrapping his arms around him. That same heat and scent invaded his senses immediately, making him almost drunk. He felt he was at the brink of tears, so he just buried his face into the vividly-colored shirt, then shivered slightly when he was embraced by two strong arms.

"Bakanky, you ass", he whispered. "I knew you'd come back. I always knew..."

He felt a soft chuckle shaking Franky's chest, and he was entranced by the sound of his heartbeat; the sweet melody of life. He felt the warm rays of the late-spring sun shine in through the window, tickling his skin.

He felt alive again.


End file.
